


Wednesday

by HazelNMae



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelNMae/pseuds/HazelNMae
Summary: My Episode 5 response fic. Because Barney Thompson is my new favorite.





	Wednesday

As was typical, it was the screaming that awoke him. He rolled over, the room still completely dark, and pushed himself up to his knees. He stumbled, trying to find the wall–a task he’d never quite mastered without the use of his hands, no matter how long he had been locked away there.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he began to think. 

It was when he began to think, that Barney truly felt the pain of his situation.

He wondered whether or not Tommy’s visit had even been real. 

_Was he really here? Sergeant Major?_

Barney usually asked his visitors to touch his face through the bars, as it was the only way he could ensure they’d actually been there – the feel their touch left on his skin.

_I didn’t insist he touch me. I should have insisted._ He banged his head against the wall several times in quick succession, beating himself up for neglecting to do it.

He remembered the French waitress. Tommy’s mention of her had reminded him of something he’d long since forgotten.

Barney lacked a lot of things, but a memory wasn’t one of them.

He could still remember her accent. He soft lilt of her voice. The way she raised each sentence as if asking an impossible question in the sweetest way.

He remembered her lips. The pale pink color she wore and how it left stains on his uniform the next morning.

He remembered her eyes. How they had searched his soul looking for something good and pure in the middle of all that death and destruction. 

Barney laughed when he thought of Tommy’s words. 

“And I reckon I was second best after Barney.”

_He was here. It was real._

Ten years. 

And for ten years, he’d lived a shell of a life. Drugged beyond understanding. The fucking drugs. He didn’t know what they were, or why he’d been given them. All he knew is they numbed him. He felt nothing. He didn’t even feel sorry for himself. No. Instead he remained hopeful, somehow, that one day things might change.

He had to remind himself of that fact often. That hope was the only thing worth pursuing. 

No, if he felt sorry for anyone it was Tommy. 

His Sergeant Major had come to him. Had brought a capsule of opium and cyanide. Had been surprised to hear that Barney actually had the will to live. That he actually remained hopeful.

_Even on the outside men have lost hope. _

Barney held the capsule in front of him examining the metallic cylinder that held the key. He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

“I have a job for you,” Tommy had said.

His hands shook, but as gently as he could, he opened the capsule. The liquid inside was clear like water. It looked like life, but it held death.

_Don’t lose hope. Wednesday. Big fuckin’ bang._

Before he could talk himself out of it, Barney threw the liquid back and let it slide down his throat. It was so quick–such a small dose–he’d hardly noticed a smell or taste. 

Then he waited. 

Waited for something, anything to happen. He leaned back against the wall again, letting his head rest against it.

Then, a bang. 

Not like a door slamming or a gun firing. A bang like those he heard in the war. A bang so close, but muffled by the earth and cinder block above him that it sounded almost distant. Like the bombs hitting the earth above his tunnels in France. 

_A big fuckin’ bang._

Barney shot up, aware now that he’d been sleeping.

He’d almost swear the bang was part of his dream if not for the shouting through the corridors around him and the dust falling from the ceiling above.

_Wednesday. Big fuckin’ bang._

His Sergeant Major was real. Had been there. Had come through.

Had saved him.

“It’s fucking Wednesday!!!”


End file.
